The Sunflowers Dream Under The Snow
by RabbitHole
Summary: After the painful breakup, Blaine tries to forget about Kurt and put the pieces of his life back together. Everything changes when, in the most unexpected moment, Blaine bumps into his ex-boyfriend in the middle of Central Park.
1. Chapter 1

My name is Blaine Anderson.

I'm seventeen years old and my boyfriend Kurt just broke up with me over the phone.

I've never thought he would do this to me. Not him. After all, he was the one who cared the most about the anniversaries and he was the one reminding me about how important are romantic gestures. He would never, he would never… Every single sentence starts in my head with these two words, slowly driving me crazy.

His voice still echoes in my head, loud and clear like in some sort of nightmare.

_'It's better for both of us.'_

The rage's pumping slowly in my veins and when Kurt repeats probably for the tenth time "Blaine, are you still there?". I don't say anything. I clench my jaw and I simply hung up. My phone remains turned off for another month. Life doesn't mean much to me right now. It's just a sequence of breaths. One day I find my phone and I simply throw it out the window and then I cry myself to sleep. This is the first time I let myself cry after the breakup.

I open my eyes. The room is still dark.

My back reminds me about its existence sending sparkles of pain down my spine, but I ignore it and somehow I manage to push myself up onto my elbows. I rub my eyes in tired gesture. Getting up hasn't hurt so much when I was younger.

_Younger._

This word drags my attention.

I walk into the bathroom and I stand in front of the mirror, but I don't recognize the person who's staring back at me. The guy with his hair messed up and dark circles under his eyes just can't be me. I don't want him to be. I look down and fix my gaze in the sink.

I realize that I need some facts in the right order, so I make myself look up again to meet the strange guy's eyes.

My name doesn't change, I'm still Blaine Anderson, but I'm most definitely not seventeen anymore. I'm the college student and this darkness surrounding me is simply another night in New York. So far from Ohio…

The apartment is mine, it's the only thing I let my parents buy for me. During the nights it's completely dark and from what I heard, it's quite rare in New York - there is a reason why people say this city never sleeps. Lamps, banners, the lights of the speeding cars… In New York you can never see stars, unless you live far from the center of the city and street tumult. I hate it. I hate New York. I live in a typical apartment and I'm protected from the light only because my window is right in front of the other building. Apartment is on penultimate floor, which irritates me a little - if I lived a floor higher, I could easily spend time on the roof. But after all that time, I got used to it.

I wash my face with cold water and when I'm wiping my face with a towel, I close my eyes for a moment, pressing my face against the material.

I don't have the strength to face another day.

I come back to my bedroom to check the time. It's almost dawn. I open the window and I close my eyes for a moment. I feel the cold, winter air against my skin. I swear loudly and close the window, shivering. Fucking January. Winter weather doesn't let me play in the corners of the streets, which sometimes means I don't eat for few days. I often sing in cheap bars, but if I have to be honest, I'm earning more money on the streets. If I'm lucky, one of the waitresses is sick or simply doesn't show up in work and I can replace them. Lately I was lucky. For two weeks now I've been replacing Betty Donovan, who's had been found dead in her own apartment. My boss, Fred, still can't find a replacement for her, so I work for half of her pension, but what's the most important, I'm able to earn a lot of tips.

Betty's boyfriend still comes here to buy a beer and then for twenty minutes he's complaining and crying on my shoulder until I find the strength to remind him I have to work. When I have money, I'm buying him a dinner, because I know that he can't afford it. His boss kicked him out of work when he stopped coming to his shifts. Fred really liked Betty and this is probably why after some time, he offers him a job. Washing the dishes is nobody's dream job, but the man is very happy. I'm not even protesting when Fred tells me I'm gonna work for even less. I just shrug it off.

I know I have to find a better job.

But when I'm talking to my friends from college, it turns out I didn't end up the worst. Those who don't use their parents' money, usually sleep around with desperate women and old businessmen to earn something. I never judge. I know that when the hunger looks you in the eyes, you're ready to do a lot to change it. It is the way it is.

I don't have many friends. When I'm in trouble, I usually call Cathy, but we never meet anywhere beside the school. Cathy was born and raised in New York and she's always ready to help whenever I have problem with getting to some place. Without her I probably wouldn't survive a day in such a big city. We're good friends and we'd definitely meet much more often, but Cathy has other obligations. Apart from studying, she needs to look after her daughter, Melanie. Cathy got pregnant at really young age. When she told her boyfriend about the pregnancy, he moved with his parents to Los Angeles to be far away from the trouble. Cathy was left alone. She and Daniel Summer, the father, haven't spoken to each other since the day Melanie was born. Daniel arrived at hospital, but Cathy was too proud to take anything from him. She didn't want his money. "I was stupid", she often tells me. Now she would sacrifice her own pride and everything else for Melanie. She survived thanks to her parents who not only didn't throw her out, but also offered to help with taking care of their granddaughter, so Cathy could go to college.

I've never met Melanie, but Cathy has a lot of the pictures of her on her phone. Melanie's beautiful. However, she looks nothing like her mother, so she must resemble her father. Cathy has to suffer a lot, I guess, considering that every day she's looking at someone who in that painful way reminds her about the past. But the girl never complains. Sometimes, when she's late for classes, she sits next to me and whispers that Melanie gets not only older, but also more stubborn and college's not as easy as it used to be. The girl doesn't want her mommy to leave her alone with her grandparents. She cries and screams until her face turns blue, so Cathy has to calm her down and rock her in her arms until she falls asleep.

I would never tell her that, but in those moments I thank God I'm gay.

And about my old friends from high school, we don't really keep in touch. Once I stumbled upon Mike and Tina, who, unlike me and Kurt, got through the separation. They were engaged now. Mike ended the school in the same day as Kurt and to everyone's surprise, he got into Julliard. Rachel got so angry that she hasn't spoken to anyone for a whole week and I'm not sure if it was because of Finn or just the perspective of the separation, but finally, she started crying during our last meeting which had a place in Will Schuester's house and she was apologizing to Mike for the next two hours.

Mike and Tina often invite me for a dinner and we talk for hours about the old times. It's a little painful for me to look at their happiness and I know they're aware of that. I'm much more attached to Tina than I am to Mike, after all, we both stuck at Lima when our boyfriends went to New York. She was the one helping me to put the pieces of my life back together after Kurt broke up with me and many times she saw me losing control. Sometimes I simply cried for hours and she stroked my hair, whispering sweet nothing to calm down, but at the same time, she didn't even try to cheer me up. She knew that it's pointless just like she knew what Kurt meant to me. There was nothing she could do to help. Few years later, she admitted how afraid she was back then. She was scared that Mike will break up with her the same way Kurt broke up with me and she won't even get a chance to say goodbye.

"I guess Kurt never loved me the way Mike loves you," I tell her.

She knows that it means I don't want to talk about it.  
>'I need to call them soon', I think, as I sit down at the edge of bed, reaching out for the cigarettes laying on my nightstand.<p>

The match dissipates the darkness for a little while as I light up my cigarette, but I put out the fire with quick movement of my hand. I take a careful drag on a cigarette and I let out the smoke, which slowly starts to fill up the room, reducing the visibility.

I'm trying to give up smoking few months now. Still ineffectually.

Cathy thinks that cigarettes make me look sexy.

Cigarettes, coffee…

I don't even remember the times when my life tasted differently.


	2. Chapter 2

"Yeah?"

Noises on the phone line. After a while I can hear Cathy's terrified voice.

"Blaine, I'm begging you, it's a sudden situation! My dad has had a heart attack and I don't know what to do with Melanie! I need someone to take care of her while I'll be at hospital... I'm just getting into a cab, could you give me your address?"

For a moment I'm silent, but then I obediently give Cathy my address and she thanks me, full of relief, like she thought I might say no.

I'm ventilating my apartment knowing that smoke can do a lot wrong to a little girl. I'm terrified. I've never taken care of a child in my entire life, I was always the youngest one in the family. Melanie's three years old. What are the three-year-old children like? What do they eat? What do they play? Do they still need diapers? What the fuck am I gonna do?

When Melanie and Cathy appear at my door, I don't feel any more smarter. Cathy gives me little pink backpack and nervously explains when I should give Melanie a dinner. She also gives me a plastic bag with a jar full of soup. 'You'll warm it up and it's ready.' Well, at least with that she solved one of my problems. Sounds easy enough.

Finally Cathy kisses girl's cheek and waves goodbye to both of us.

"My brother is going to pick her up around five," she promises. "I'll let you know if something changes, but he probably will simply come to your apartment… Okay, bye, honey, be nice to Blaine and don't cause any trouble!"

And that's it. The door closes and I'm left alone with Melanie. She looks at me with her big green eyes, apparently expecting me to say something.

And so I do it.

"Uhm… Hi."

Blaine Anderson. Twenty-year-old man, tongue-tied because of a little girl.

***  
>I hate Central Park during the winter.<p>

Melanie's hand seems so small in mine and for a moment I'm scared I'm going to crush it, but the girl doesn't want me to let go of it. She's scared I'm going to lose her, she says, and then she tells me about the incident with her grandpa, when the man lost her from his sight just for a second during some trip and they couldn't find each other for next half an hour. The story is too chaotic to understand more, but obviously it had happy ending. Melanie finds the memory very funny, so I laugh with her, although I'm not so sure whether I'd be amused if I were her grandpa.

I check the time – it's a little past four. It was set that Cathy's brother will pick Melanie up in a coffee house placed nearby Central Park so he don't have to go to my apartment.

Walking around the town with a little pink backpack in my hand, makes me feel incredibly stupid and the looks given me by people don't make it any better.

"Young daddy and he's doin' so well!" I hear one woman's comment.

Jesus.

I haven't smoked since today's morning and although I'm really trying to control myself, I answer Melanie's questions with my jaw slightly tensed. I change my attitude when the girl hides her face in my sleeve, complaining that it's getting colder and she would like to drink a hot tea. I look at her thin coat and I bend down to wrap my scarf around her neck.

"I already have one", she notices. "I don't need your scarf. And you're gonna be cold."

She's very smart for a three-year-old, I think.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it" I lie, but she seems to believe me, because she gives me a heartwarming smile. Suddenly I'm not so mad with the lack of cigarettes. And suddenly I feel a lot warmer. We keep on walking as we get closer to the Park entrance. It's time to go, I decide. I don't want Melanie to get a cold, my scarf won't help her much. We can wait for her uncle in the coffee shop and get some tea in the meantime.

The girl is jumping happily by my side, and the pom-poms attached to her hat are jumping with her.

"Will you tie my shoe?" she asks at some point.

I help her sit down on the bench, as she's too small to do it on her own, and I bend down to tie the shoe. My fingers are a little stiff from the cold and they start hurting, so I clench my jaw, making a note in my head that I should buy myself gloves. How I hate winter. Somehow I manage to lace the shoe and I want to take Melanie from the bench, but she doesn't let me. Her eyes are fixed on the east part of the park, and she asks:

"Blaine, why are these two men kissing?"

I frown slightly. She points at them with her finger and I want to tell her that she shouldn't point at someone like that, but as I turn around, I completely forget what I wanted to say.

My heart stops. My mind stops. The whole world stops.

_No. _

It can't be _him. _

Kurt Hummel laughs lightly as he kisses the other man once again, this time on the cheek.

What is he doing here?

I'm still in shock, but slowly my brain starts to put all the pieces together.

_Look at this man. He's the one Kurt left you for. Look closely. _

But the man says goodbye to Kurt and then he walks away in the opposite direction. All I can see is his black coat. It's a very nice coat, I think. Looks good on him. Probably Kurt helped him buy it. Maybe they were together in the dressing room and…

I close my eyes for a moment, as my head starts spinning.

I'm wondering how many times Kurt snuggled into that fabric.

To my despair, Kurt's heading in our direction. He looks at me and Melanie briefly, but he's still too far to see me clearly and he focus his gaze mostly on Melanie. He smiles gently. Good. I take a deep breath, feeling a little relieved. Kurt looks at the couple sitting on the bench not very far from us, but he quickly looks away seeing how busy they are with each other. Clearly even the cold can't stop them.

This time Kurt looks at me.

Directly.

And he recognizes me.

The smile freezes on his lips.

I think he mouths my name, but I can't be sure because of the distance. I realize that I'm still squatting, and although I tied the shoe long time ago, I still keep my hands up. I blink few times and help Melanie from the bench. The girl immediately grips tightly my hand and she snuggles up against me tiredly, asking me if we can go now. Kurt doesn't move even a bit. He looks at Melanie with his eyes wide open, like he's trying to understand something. And I think this is when he makes a decision.

He runs up to us, hugging me tightly and wrapping his arms around my neck, practically, tackling both of us, me and Melanie to the ground. He keeps repeating my name.

"Blaine, Blaine… It's you, it's really you…"

No, no, _no_.

I'm completely stiff in his arms. I don't move, I don't say anything.

This can't be happening.

It can't be real.

For a moment I think that this is all a dream, bad, bad dream and my subconscious is simply fucking with me. Maybe I'm daydreaming, who knows.

No. Kurt is here.

He's really here.

His warmth, his smell, his voice and his heart beating next to mine… Nothing has changed. Everything I've been longing for, his touch, his breath against my skin, everything that made me love him so much, it's really here. So it has to be real.

Finally I come to my senses and I step back, moving away from Kurt's warm arms. I think this is when he realizes that he just tackled his ex-boyfriend, because his face gets red of embarrassment. As if he realized just now that he'd broken my heart.

I feel trapped. I don't want Kurt here. Not now. Not when I finally managed to move on. Melanie's pulling my sleeve and she's apparently asking me something, but I can't hear her voice. I don't hear anything but my heartbeat.

"You've settled down."

Kurt's words help me come back to my senses, come back to the reality. Kurt smiles lightly to Melanie and she presses her face against my jacket, hugging my leg. She's embarrassed.

Somehow I mange to find my own voice.

"She... She's not mine," I mumble.

Kurt's quiet.

I'm not sure he believes me.

For a moment I feel like running away.

"I… We… We should probably get going," I say and I nod at Melanie. "Her uncle's probably already waiting for us."

"Can I go with you?"

For a moment I think I misheard him.

What the fuck is he doing?

Can't he see I don't want him here? At all? Can't he see that I'm doing my best not to make him a scene in the middle of the park? Can't he see that I all I want to do is to run away from him?

Is he out of his freaking mind?

"Sure," I reply.

Idiot.

The walk to the coffee shop is silent. Melanie is humming happily some song, obviously not aware of that situation and heavy atmosphere. Finally it hits me, that the girl is only three years old. What can she know about me and Kurt?

It turns out that Melanie's uncle was, in fact, waiting for us. We shake our hands. The man thanks me for taking care of the girl, he grabs her pink backpack (I'm pretty sure Kurt stifles a chuckle) and leaves the coffee shop.

Kurt and I are left alone.

I ask him if he still orders the same coffee, and nods, smiling at me. Some things never change.

Or maybe Kurt's lying. Maybe he drinks latte now. And I would never know.

When I come back, the first thing I notice is that Kurt took off his coat. And that he's looking like a fucking movie star. He's wearing dark blue shirt, which in incredible way makes his eyes even bluer, and the fabric clings tightly to his chest. Of course, I do my best not to notice it.

It all reminds me about the strange, tired boy I discovered today in my mirror and I swear loudly in my mind, wondering what Kurt must've thought about me when he saw me.

Our conversation doesn't go very well.

It turns out that Kurt resigned from studying, but he's got a job in some fashion magazine which I've never heard of. On the other hand, it's never been a part of my interests.

"But what about singing? And acting?" I ask him.

Kurt shrugs. " It was pointless. I would never make it, I wasn't good enough."

His tone suggest that he'd been telling it more than once in his past.

" But you never give up ," I say quietly. Silence surrounds us for a moment. I think Kurt's face screws up in pain, but maybe I just imagined it.

"There always has to be the first time," he whispers.

I tell him about my job and my studies, about Mike and Tina, and Kurt tells me about Finn and Rachel in return.

The talk about other people's relationships can lead to the one thing only.

"Are you seeing anyone?" Kurt asks.

I shake my head no. There's no point in saying anything more than that and despite of what I've witnessed in the park, I ask him: "What about you?"

Something seems to change in Kurt's eyes.

"I've got a boyfriend," he says eventually and I feel as if the ton of bricks just filled my stomach. "His name is Tom."

"Oh," I manage to say. I've seen the guy in the park, but hearing it from someone is always different than just suspecting something. We fall into a silence for a moment and I can feel Kurt's judging gaze on my skin, although I don't even look at him. "Wow."

The silence drives me crazy.

"Wow," I repeat. So now I'm repeating myself. Awesome. "Just wow. That's great."

I know Kurt doesn't believe me, but he's kind enough to keep that to himself. I push my hands deeper inside my pockets.

" So…" I speak up. "Have you two already been together, when we…"

"No," Kurt interrupts me immediately, his voice harsh. I can see something hard and bitter rising in his eyes. "We've met about two months later. In the coffee shop."

In the coffee shop. Of course.

Kurt wraps his arms around himself defensively. "I know you don't think about me in a good way, but I have never, ever cheated on you," he whispers, his eyes focused on the table. "I never would."

For a moment we're both silent, because I can't even deny his words. It's all true, for the past three years I was sure that Kurt was cheating on me.

Then again, I've never thought about him as a bad person. Not really. I loved him too much.

Kurt points at my hands which still are hidden inside my pockets.

"I remember that gesture of yours. You were doing that whenever you've felt insecure," he smiles gently. "That is, very rarely."

"You still remember things like that?"

Kurt looks down. "I remember every single thing about you," he murmurs. For a moment I think I can see the tears glistering in his eyes, but maybe it's just a reflection. We simply stare at each other in silence, not knowing what else to say.

I open my mouth and I close it immediately.

I want to say something.

I really do, but I don't know what.

So many times I've had this conversation in my head. So many times I've seen in my imagination. Kurt sitting right in front of me in exactly the same way he sits right now, with his arms crossed and head slightly bent down.

But when the moment comes, when I want to say something…

The words simply fall from my lips and they're definitely not the words I've planned to say.

"Why did you break up with me?"

The atmosphere thickens.

I realize it doesn't sound good.

It sounds like an accusation.

I could've skipped that one.

In the corner of my eye I can see Kurt fidgeting slightly in his seat. He looks a little bit frightened, just like he's afraid of something. So he feels guilty, I think. Deep inside I snort in disbelief. It wasn't something I expected from him.

Kurt purses his lips.

"You have no idea what it's like," he says quietly. "You have no idea how it is, when you're completely alone, far away from home…"

"Oh, don't I?" I say ironically and I feel rage pumping in my veins. For this short moment I'm seventeen again and I hold the useless phone in my hand. _'It's better for both of us.'_I feel stupid and naive. I feel used. "I'm sorry. I guess I really have no idea how it is to live in a big city on your own."

"Blaine, I…"

"Don't you dare make any excuses for yourself." I squeeze my eyes shut and my fingers wander to my temple, as I feel that I'm losing control. "Just do this one thing for me and take all the blame. Because you weren't lonely, Kurt. You had me. Me! Far away, but I was right there, waiting for you! But you… You chose to abandon me."

Kurt still doesn't say anything, so I continue.

"Do you know what hurt the most? That I didn't even deserve for the real break up. How much time it was left to your break? A month? You couldn't wait? Or maybe you've been too scared? Too scared to look me in the eyes and say those five words that had to be said? Just five words! Five fucking words I deserved! I needed them! Because thanks to them I could've moved on!"

I want to say these words, I want Kurt to face them, but in the end, he's the one saying it.

"I don't love you anymore," he whispers wiping the tears off with his sleeve. I haven't even noticed when he started crying. I know I should feel bad about it, but I can't bring myself to care.

The coffee shop suddenly falls silent.

Everyone's staring at us and for a moment I'd give anything to run away from here, from Kurt and from my past.

Kurt's puffy eyes finds mine and he sends me silent message with his gaze.

'Ignore them.'

This is at least I can do for him, so I stay where I am.

When the people realize that the show is over, they slowly come back to their dropped conversations. Me and Kurt are quiet.

For a moment I consider telling him that there's a meeting I completely forgot about and I have to go, but then I notice something. One of Kurt's sleeves rolled up and there wouldn't be anything strange about if it wasn't for a purple bruise marking his usually flawless skin.

I grab his wrist instinctively and ignoring Kurt's protests, I roll up the sleeve even farther. The bruise's shape suspiciously looks like a hand.

When Kurt wrenches himself from my grasp, I can't even react properly. I just stare at him with my eyes wide open.

"This is not what you think it is," Kurt says, breaking the silence.

"And what do I think?" I ask, looking at him blankly.

"Probably that I'm… That I'm in some sort of sick relationship. Do you really think I'd let anyone to push me around?"

This is exactly what I think, but I don't say that out loud.

"So who did this to you?" I ask him instead.

Kurt purses his lips.

"I got mugged one week ago."

"Oh really", I sneer.

"I'm not lying!"

"Of course."

For a minute we look at each other in silence.

"Tom is a good guy," Kurt says eventually. He seems a little irritated. "He just…"

"…has some troubles with controlling his anger?" I suggest.

Kurt clenches his fists and takes a deep breath.

"No Blaine," he replies, his voice a little calmer. "I admit, Tom may be… He's not you. Sometimes he's a little impetuous. But he would never hurt me."

I drop my gaze and I stare blankly at the table.

For some reason, this time I believe him.

I think about the smile Kurt had on his face before he kissed his boyfriend in the park and I clench my jaw. He loves him, I could tell. Why is it so hard for me to accept that Kurt is happy with someone else?

"You've changed." I hear him saying.

"Says who?" I say and I give him a small smile to make amends to him a little. "You used your sleeve to wipe off the tears. The old Kurt Hummel would give you a lecture about this highly valuable material and the importance of having respect to the clothes you're wearing."

I manage to make him laugh and I don't know why, but it makes me happy. Maybe it's the bruise on his wrist. Maybe it's the past finally coming up to the surface. One way or another, suddenly I find myself having much more compassion for the boy sitting in front of me.

I don't even ask him what did he mean by "change". I know god damn well that there's nothing left from the old Blaine Anderson. And me and Kurt both know whose fault it is.

"Blaine", Kurt pipes out after awhile. "I… I have to ask you something. And it's very egocentric of me, this thought I have. Because… Because I know it's impossible for you to… But I have to know."

I sit in silence, waiting for him to finally get to the point. Kurt looks me in the eyes and he clutches the coffee cup with both hands.

"Do you still love me?" he asks.

My heart starts racing.

Just when the first wave of surprise washes over me, I realize how stupid is that question. Kurt must have thought the same thing, because now I can see the blush staining on his cheeks.

I don't want to hurt his feelings, so I end up simply telling him the truth.

"I've loved you for a long time," I croak, looking away. "New York's never been my dream, but I still wanted to get here, just because I knew you were there. And I don't know what I was hoping for. For months I was looking for you and sometimes I thought I saw those familiar blue eyes somewhere in the crowd, but it was always just my imagination…"

I take my hands out of the pockets and I fix my gaze on them.

"I don't know when I decided to give up", I mutter. "Maybe one year ago? Or maybe at the same time I started smoking. Maybe earlier."

"Smoking? You?"

"I'm not proud of it."

We stare at each other for a moment until it gets too awkward and we both look away at the same time.

And this is when I realize that this is it.

I don't love Kurt. And he doesn't love me. We don't belong to each other anymore. He's not mine and I'm not his. I haven't fully realized it until now. I don't feel love while looking at him. No butterflies in my stomach, no pain, maybe just a little regret and anger.

Kurt suddenly seems so small sitting in this wooden chair. As if the past completely torn him down from the inside. I haven't noticed it before. And maybe this what helps me to make a decision. I find a pen in my pocket. I usually use it to write down the lyrics that always pop up in my head in the most unexpected moments. Many times I came back home with the random key words written on my palms and wrists. Mostly I don't even know what I was trying to say.

I reach out for the napkin and write down my address and phone number.

"Here," I say as I hand it to Kurt. "In case you'd like to meet me some other time."

We say our goodbyes a little coldly and I leave Kurt alone at the table.

When I get to the door I turn around for a moment to once again look at that strange boy I used to know. Despite of giving him my number, I hope he'll never decide to meet me again.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** There's something I should have mentioned in the beginning, so I'm telling this now. First of all, "The Sunflowers..." is not a long story, I didn't plan it to be, because I simply didn't see the point. But there's something more important I wanted to say.  
>The story is mostly about dealing with mental inlness and you'll see that later, I guess somewhere around chapter 5. If you're not okay with that, don't read farther.<br>Thank you for attention!

* * *

><p>A week later Kurt appears on my doorstep.<p>

I'm busy with tuning my guitar and I have nightshift at Fred's bar today, but Kurt promises it won't take long. So I let him stay.

The whole time he doesn't say a word.

Neither do I.

And this is how it goes.

For the next month Kurt visits me once a week, simply being around. I smoke my cigarette and play the guitar, and he just sits and watches me carefully. We don't say anything more and anything less than "Hi" and "See you soon."

One day I start playing a song for him and he recognizes the lyrics. We end up singing it together.

_Cinder and smoke_  
><em>You'll ask me to pray for rain<em>  
><em>With ash in your mouth<em>  
><em>You'll ask it to burn again<em>

And then I light up my cigarette the way I always do, and he watches my every gesture in silence. But this time he sits much closer. He even puts his head on my shoulder, pressing his body against my side. I don't push him away. I simply let him do it. Kurt sighs happily and that's it. None of us decides to break the silence.

And finally, there comes a week when Kurt doesn't come over.

I knew it was going to happen soon. How long could it last? We couldn't keep meeting like this, it was pointless. And of course, the silence isn't something you can stand for long. But I would simply lie to myself if I said I wasn't a little disappointed. Maybe even hurt. Deep down, seventeen-year-old Blaine cries silently inside my head, but the twenty-year-old one simply starts smoking more cigarettes.

Another week comes to an end. I still have a hope Kurt will come, although I would never admit it out loud.

But Kurt doesn't come. And he doesn't come the next week. Or the week after that. Or even a month.

The time passes.

When February comes, I'm already sure that Kurt will never come to visit me again. I don't really blame him, although I don't really understand why he kept meeting me in the first place. Maybe he wanted to know if there was still something there between us. Or maybe he was lonely. Now I will never know. I tell myself that thinking about him is normal. He was my first real love. And the last one. Of course seeing him after all those years would bring back memories. But then I remind myself that I've already moved on.

And then, one cold evening, everything changes.

Well.

'Cold' would be an euphemism.

It's freaking freezing.

It's snowing really hard and the snow makes it impossible for me to leave my apartment and to get to the bar on time. I call Fred to tell him that I can't work today and ask if he has someone else who could take my shift. But Fred doesn't mind, he can't leave his house either. He has called few people to see if anyone could make it, but it looks like because of snow the bar is closed today.

I hang up and I go to the kitchen to make some tea, wondering what to do with my job-free evening. I can't remember the last time when I had so much time for myself and I'm really happy about the perspective. But suddenly, as I make my way to the kitchen, I hear the noise.

Someone's knocking at the door.

The noise is so quiet that if I was sitting in my bedroom, I wouldn't hear a thing. It's really late, I realize. No one visits me in the night. Or, practically at all. I rush to the door, wondering who it could be. And when I open it, I can't believe my eyes. I freeze completely.

Kurt's leaning against the wall and it's clear that it takes him a lot to keep his balance. He's blue and stiff from the cold, because he's not wearing any jacket. He shakes terribly and obviously tries to stop himself from coughing.

"Jesus Christ," I whisper. Kurt's legs give out, but luckily I catch him, before he hits the ground. He's unconscious. Fuck.

He's really heavy, but somehow I manage to carry him all the way to the living room and lay him down on the couch. I want to call an ambulance, but Kurt opens his eyes, and just as he knows what I'm thinking about, he mumbles:

"No… No doctors…"

He barely has enough strength to push himself up onto his elbows. I run to the kitchen to make a tea. Kurt needs to drink. I don't know much about medicine, but at this moment, it simply makes sense to me. In the meantime, I find aspirin and I go back to the living room with a glass of water. I make Kurt take the medicine and I help him to hold a glass. He's shaking too much to do this on his ownHe barely has enough strength to push himself up onto his elbows. I run to the kitchen to make a tea. Kurt needs to drink. I don't know much about medicine, but at this moment, it simply makes sense to me. In the meantime, I find aspirin and I go back to the living room with a glass of water. I make Kurt take the medicine and I help him to hold a glass. He's shaking too much to do this on his own.

I find spare pajama pants in my bedroom, I take fresh towels and I go back to Kurt. And suddenly it hits me.

I know what I have to do and I don't like it at all.

I take Kurt's clothes off and I rub his naked, cold skin with a towel. It would be much easier if I had a bathtub, because there's no way that Kurt will able to stand under the shower. So I wrap Kurt tightly in a blanket and I bring tea from the kitchen. I poured some honey into it. My grandmother used to do the same when I was sick.

"I don't want to..." Kurt pouts. "I don't need…"

"Just drink it."

Finally Kurt gives in and he lets me hold the cup for him as he drinks. I wrap my arms around him and he rests his head on my chest, closing his eyes. He's still shaking and it worries me a little.

"Come on, Kurt…" I whisper. "Let's go to the bedroom."

Of course, Kurt isn't strong enough to stand by himself, so I pick him up from the couch and I carry him to my bedroom where I lay him gently on the bed. He looks with me through the eyelashes with his half-lidded eyes and he clenches his hands in the sheet.

"I'm cold," he croaks.

His chest rises and falls heavily, it's so hard for him to breath. His cheeks are getting red which I think is a good sign. But he still can't stop trembling.

I bite my lip.

I have an idea.

I know I need to be naked for it to work, so I take off my clothes, but I still decide to keep my boxers on. Then I lie down next to Kurt and I wrap my arms tightly around him, swearing loudly, because his skin is so cold that it hurts. I hope that the heat from my body will help him get a little warmer. I think I saw it on TV, but I can't be sure and I don't really care as long as it works. I just want Kurt to stop shaking. He's so cold that it's really hard for me not to move away from him, but I clench my jaw and tell myself to suck it up.

Kurt shifts slightly and he rests his head on my chest and we snuggle up against each other, Kurt slowly drifting off. When he falls asleep, I reach for an extra blanket. I'm still worried that he's cold, even if he stopped shaking. I'm really hot and sweaty so I stare at the ceiling, knowing that I won't fall asleep in such heat.

The worst part is that now I'm left alone with my thoughts and I can't stop thinking about what happened. I keep asking myself the same questions, questions I still haven't got an answer for.

What was Kurt doing alone outside in such a cold day?

Why wasn't he wearing any jacket?

Why did he come to me?

Where is his boyfriend?

What _the hell _happened?

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><p>The song used in the chapter is "Cinder and smoke" by Iron &amp; Wine.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I'm horribly sorry for the delay! I'm pretty sure that you've already lost hope. I'm sorry for mistakes in this chapter, grammar haunts me lately. Also, I want to say thank you to my friends who helped me with this chapter. I would never translate this without you.

* * *

><p>When I wake up the next morning, for one brief moment I'm a little surprised feeling the warmth, and the obvious closeness of another body. It takes me a few seconds to fully recall everything that happened the previous night, but at least now I know who I'm going to see after lifting the eyelids. For this I am prepared. But I'm definitely not prepared for the warm mouth wandering down my arm.<p>

"Kurt."

I open my eyes.

Meanwhile Kurt moves to my neck and gently starts to suck the skin. My heart speeds up, and the memories, the memories of _us_ hit me so fiercely that I have to take a deep breath.

"Kurt, stop," I manage to say.

He ignores me.

Instead, he rolls me on my back and his mouth begins to travel down my chest. When he reaches the hem of my boxers, he slips his fingers under the material and pulls them in one swift motion.

"Kurt!"

He plants gentle kisses up the length of my cock, licking slightly at the head, and without warning takes me into his mouth. My loud moan echoes around the walls and self-loathing for a moment takes away my ability to speak.

"Kurt…" I groan. "Y-you have a boyfriend..."

It works. He moves away from me.

He pulls his knees to his chest and begins to rock back and forth.

"Not anymore," he whispers. "He left me… That's why I'm here. He… He threw me out."

For a moment I think I've misheard him.

"He did what?"

Kurt bursts into tears.

Without a word I take him in my arms and rock him slowly, until he falls asleep. The fever comes back, I realize. It also occurs to me that his kisses were a sort of payment for my hospitality.

I feel sick.

Kurt's fever lasts over the next few days, but he never gives up on seducing me. It seems that he completely can't accept the fact that he's still sick, and that there's so many other reasons why sleeping with him right now would be a horrible idea. Kurt isn't the only one who doesn't want to give up. Meanwhile, snowstorm doesn't seem to have an end, and I become a prisoner of my own home.

Until it suddenly stops.

Luckily, I have to return to work soon, and Kurt doesn't mind. He's still sick and a little feverish, but he's strong enough to take care of himself without me being around.

My shift passes too quickly, and soon I return to the apartment, my own prison I used to call home. I say a brief hello to Kurt, informing him that we have to talk as soon as I'm finished with shower, and I go to the bathroom. I strip of my clothes, and this is when I realize that I forgot to take my pajamas. _Fuck_, as usual. Except that before, I could have simply marched there naked. But now I'm not alone. I bite my lip, wrapping a towel around my waist, and I go back to the bedroom.

And this is when the unexpected happens. And that unexpected thing is clearly waiting for me.  
>What I see on the bed takes my breath away. My towel drops on the floor, but I find myself with no strength to pick it up.<p>

"No," I say simply before Kurt has a chance to speak.  
>It's sort of funny.<p>

Kurt didn't say anything, but we still understand each other without words. Of course, few years ago such situation would have never happened. Kurt wouldn't be lying in my bed in this position, completely naked and with such expression. I don't know this Kurt. He's a complete stranger. It can't be someone I knew. My Kurt would whisper "Make love to me" with his cheeks becoming slightly more colorful than few seconds ago, and of course I would, because I loved him so much.

But the man in my bed demands to fuck him.

"I know you want to," Kurt purrs, and with the effort my eyes wander back to his face. Kurt's cheeks are red, but it's definitely not a healthy, shy blush. It's just a fever. If it wasn't for that, I would think that this boy, this _man_ in my bed is just a ghost of the past, just a memory, and I myself have gone crazy long time ago. But his weakness calms me down. In the end, ghosts don't get sick.

Somehow I mange to find my own voice.

"No, I don't," I say firmly.

I'm still naked and I realize that my erection belies words. But I know I can do this. I sit down next to Kurt, and I touch his forehead, ignoring disappointment on his face. The temperature has dropped slightly, I notice, but he's still hot.

"I'll give you some aspirin," I say. "Can you try to go back to sleep for a bit longer?"

Kurt doesn't respond.

Instead, with a shocking strength for a sick person, he grabs me by the hips, and pulls me towards himself. And with that simple trick, he wins the whole battle.

At this point I don't care that he's sick. I don't care that we shouldn't. Right now, I don't even care if Kurt's using me. Because that silly part of me tells me that I can replace that asshole who left him. I can make Kurt feel better. In that very moment, I even feel like I can love him again.

We crush our lips together, and for a second it's hard to tell who tops, and who bottoms. The whole world is spinning. Those aren't kisses I'm used to, and it's not Kurt I remember. But when one of us grinds our hips together, and Kurt throws his head back with my name on his lips, I stop caring. But I can't shut off the brain, and I don't quite understand everything. Kurt's body is impossibly hot under mine. I have no idea why would he possibly want it, want me. If it wasn't for the heat from his body, I'd think he's been only simulating. How can you be so sick and still have strength to do these kind of stuff with someone? I'm not even talking about wanting. For a short moment, I want to ask him, I want to protest, but Kurt shuts my mouth with a kiss, and he rolls me on my back to hover above me. He straddles me and slowly lowers his hips on mine, pinning my wrists to the mattress to make sure he still has all of the control. I'm not even pretending that it's not true.

"Where…?" Kurt asks.

"In the nightstand," I murmur, resigned. "First drawer."  
>Kurt smiles softly and bends to reach for the condoms and lube, without leaving my lap. He moves back and sits on my legs.<p>

"Let me," I whisper, but Kurt smiles again and presses a finger to his lips while shaking his head.

"_Shh._"

Looks like I don't have anything to say tonight.

He gently teases his own entrance with his fingertips, pushing the first finger inside with a low moan escaping his throat, and then after he adjusted, another one. He starts to slowly move them in and out, with his other hand slowly stroking his cock. I've never seen anything like it. Kurt throws his head back, and closes his eyes. He looks amazing with those pink cheeks, sweat dripping down his neck, and long eyelashes leaving shadows on his light skin. I can see from the way his moans increase that he knows his body very well, and when he presses the third finger inside moaning loudly, for a moment I have the urge to throw him off me, and tie him up to the headboard of my bed. But I don't do any of those things. Mainly because I'm not really sure if I would have won.

Finally, Kurt pulls out his fingers, and rolls a condom onto my cock, slicking it with lube. He's playing with me, pressing every delicate spot on my body with his teasing fingertips, but all the hate I feel to him at his moment is blinded when he raises his hips, letting me enter him.

For a second it feels like the world just stopped.

Kurt's eyes are closed again, and by the way his eyes are squeezed tightly, I can see he still needs to adjust. I want to say something, and he seems to know it, because he raises a finger to his lips, silently telling me "No". I don't protest. After some time Kurt finally raises his eyelids and smiles softly, then he bends down, pressing another long, lingering kiss to my lips. When he moves away, his face is fully focused. He bites his lower lip in exact same way I remembered it, and it makes my heart ache. Memories close my eyes, but I wave them off. Those Kurt and Blaine are long gone, and there's no reason to cry about it.

Kurt balances himself, putting his hands on the headboard and raising his hips a little, just to lower himself down again. I'm not sure whose scream is louder, mine or his, but after a while we're both moaning, as our hips slowly begin to rock together, building steady rhythm. Bed squeaks loudly underneath us, and I find myself grabbing desperately to that sound, just to make sure it's not a dream, and that this beautiful boy is really above me. Kurt doesn't even try to keep me quiet anymore. I'm holding his hips, driving my nails into his sensitive skin, but he doesn't seem to notice or maybe he just wants to be marked. Maybe he needs to believe that his is really happening, just like I do.

When I reach between his legs to stroke him, he bats my hand away, and again presses a finger to his lips, reminding me who's really in control.

_"You can only lie there,"_ he seems to say.

I obey, lowering my hands.

Kurt closes his eyes and throws his head back, his hand quickening his pace against his erection. This view is driving me crazy, so I try to focus on his face. The perfect, usually pale skin is still flushed and his lips repeat my name like a mantra. Right now, I'm not sure what's redder – Kurt's swollen lips or his cheeks. Once again he screams my name and his hand slows down.

Kurt's eyes flutter open, and he bites his lips hard enough to draw a blood, and I've never seen someone who would orgasm this way. It makes you fall apart too. Kurt falls down on my chest and I come few seconds later, leaving nail scratches all over his back. For awhile we simply lie there, not able to move, not able to do anything. We just listen to each other's heartbeats. I fall asleep first or maybe we both fall asleep at the same time. I don't know. I can still feel Kurt's breath against my neck when my mind is floating away. I think he's whispering something to me, but I'm not strong enough to listen.

When I wake up the next day with a fever, I'm still not sure if that whole night wasn't just a dream. I've had many crazy dreams in my life before. But then comes another fantasy. And another. And another. And the marks on Kurt's hips never fade away. My fantasies don't seem to come right away, they appear after few days, when I come down from my fever, feeling slightly better. When I come back to my senses, Kurt tells me that everything was real, that those crazy dreams were not fantasies, they were memories, and I'm not sure what to do about that fact.

Kurt feels much better, and he takes care of me when I'm not strong enough to get up from bed. Now he's the one who's offering the aspirin. For the next week, no matter how we feel, we fuck, and then we get sick all over again just when my strength comes back.

I think sex is all we have left.

We don't talk much.

Sometimes Kurt cries in my arms, and I simply stroke his hair until he falls asleep. I never ask about anything. I don't know what to say. In his dreams, he whispers random names, unknown names, and I don't think I want to know what place did those people have in Kurt's life. I'm scared of his past, just like he seems to be afraid of it. That's why we usually end up talking about the future, occasionally about what we have here and now. We never look back. Sometimes we just lie next to each other, quietly. We think. I don't know what Kurt thinks about these days, but I never stop wondering what happened to us. He might be too. We're both trying to forget the past. That's the only thing I'm sure of.

Kurt's smell mixes in my mind with the scent of sex.


End file.
